If you have ever been abused we all have them. Days that we either choose to push back into the recess of our mind, or we have completely lost all memory of them. To this very day I still recognize this trait within me. In truth the only difference is that I no longer feel the need to revisit them to rake over my past. Having finally dealt with my past I no longer have that over welling compunction. Control is now totally within my grasp. If of my choosing I were to walk through that door once more, I would now be able to face the demons that lurk within, whilst leaving again unharmed. For some of you out there it is impossible to even think this possible, surly this is something you will have to live with your entire life. That place in time is only something that you can only dream of. The thing to remember is what we are never changes, but who we are changes all the time. The saddest thing that you can ever do is lose yourself, I’m not even sure that you know you have lost yourself until you have. When this happens we have truly reached rock bottom. This is the time we need to remember with clarity, to take strength in the knowledge that you have survived this far against all the odds. This is the time where we need to let go, to try to find answers to all the questions that have been there for so long.
There is a statement to be made that there are some questions that never need to be asked, along with questions that should never be answered. That is so very wide of the mark. Until you have embraced the fact that these questions need to be addressed, you will continue on the merry- go- round never able to leave that ride. If I have learnt anything over the years it is that delay is the surest sign of denial. For many years we strive to disguise ourselves to others, but this is the surest path to the misconception that we can disguise ourselves to our self. If your abuser is a family member there is nothing more difficult than trying to understanding the mind of your abuser. But it’s something that we have to strive towards. Love is giving someone the ability to destroy you but trusting that they won’t. If this love and trust is for a family member it’s within you from birth, unquestionable for the one person you felt would die to protect you.
A thought entered my mind last night during an interview that hit home hard.
Fairy tales don’t tell the children that a dragon exists, the child already knows that the dragon’s exists. The only difference is that children are told that the dragon can be killed.
So how do we deal with the utter portrayal felt? The undeniable fact is that sometimes we need the space to be alone; for this is the place that if we look deep enough within we will find our answers. It’s true to say that this is a very lonely place to be, which in turn may lead to feelings of a fractured life where we feel pulled apart cut off and isolated. But until you let go of who you think you are you will never become the person you were meant to be.
Yes there are days we can never reclaim, but are we going to continue on wasting the days that stretch out before us? Do we continue on thinking that we will deal with it tomorrow? We all know that tomorrow never comes. However many years we still have stretched out in front of us, we have the ability to make them count. Let go of the pain that has followed you around for it seems like forever. Close that chapter of your life because the play ended many years ago, and the curtain has come down. You are now the director able to move in any direction you feel is right for you. You have the ability within to map out the rest of your life as you wish it to be. Take heart in the fact that the fat lady has already sung you have just failed to hear her……
Teresa Joyce was born on the 15th December 1958 the middle child of three. After losing her father at a very young age; this was to set the pattern for the rest of her life. Losing was something she would have to get used to. Today she still has some memory of her father, but in truth it’s all a little hazy.
Her mother through no fault of her own after that loss had no other alternative, other than to return to her parent’s home with her children in tow. This family unit were to spend only a few years there, until the wind of change came along. Her life was about to change beyond belief. She would spend many years hating not only herself, but everything around her as the years progressed. She swore to herself that she would leave all this behind at the first possible occasion. Happy memories are something that Teresa holds in very short supply. Her mother was set to meet the man that was to become her stepfather, and they moved once more to a new city with the promise of a new life. Hopefully it would be a happy one for all concerned, but it became a place for Teresa that felt far more like a prison.
No one was safe if they stood in the way of my stepfather and what he claimed was his. I would be abused and blackmailed unable to stop or control anything going on around me; I felt that the only way out would be to check out on life completely and it seemed a welcoming prospect. Running from memories of all those years living by his rules, buried so deep within me I never really remembered or faced until I was forced to do so.
I would find myself in a situation that I had no control over and in the grip of a complete madman, who was hell bent on destroying my life. Running from memories of all those years living under his rules, buried so deep within me I never really remembered or faced until I was forced to do so.
I saw myself delving deeper and deeper into my own unconscious thoughts, revealing to me memories which seemed so alien. Happy memories for me are something that I hold in short supply, and I always thought that they were in my childhood, but that was about to be blown out of the water.
But the problem with opening Pandora’s Box was that once opened I could no longer close the lid and I am still carrying it along with me – like an uninvited guest at a party. It has left me with an enormous sociological/psychiatric residue.
The onset of a set of circumstances beyond my control would stamp its seal, rendering my marriage unworkable. Engineered by the involvement of the one man I had learnt to hate – my stepfather.
I myself would spend many years within mental health care; in fact I am still under their care umbrella. I would move from a heterosexual relationship into a lesbian relationship. Firmly believing that anything controlled or even remotely integral to men, was something I never ever what’d part of again.
There is always a light at the end of the tunnel; my aim is to reassure that through my personal experience.